The Wind Was So Loud, My Love Went Unheard When Spoken

Three years married, and my career-driven wife had one gift she reserved just for me.

Every holiday, she sent me the gas bill, the property management receipt, the paid-in-full water and electric statement.

Even on our anniversary she sent a payment screenshot, note attached: Electric bill paid. Anniversary gift.

I sighed and posted the picture online without thinking.

My wife's too practical. What do I do?

It didn't take long before a comment landed under it.

"Bro, I need advice. My wife's too much of a romantic and it's giving me a headache. What do I do?"

A little envious, I clicked into his page.

A pink diamond ring, fresh roses swapped out every three days, Disney plushies piled all over the living room...

I swiped through them one by one, thinking, so women like that really do exist.

Until the last photo.

On a beach, rose petals laid out in the shape of a heart, a woman standing in the center holding a bouquet, and across from her a man down on one knee, sliding a ring onto her finger.

She was looking up at him, her eyes full of love.

So in this world, there really were people who got loved like that.

Too bad the man wasn't me.

And the woman was my wife.

1.

The comment section was full of people calling him a show-off, a humblebrag.

Soon the poster, a guy named Ivor Gilbert, replied and dropped a video as proof.

"I really wasn't showing off. Look, she said our anniversary needed to feel special, insisted on booking this whole fireworks show for me."

In the video, one blue firework after another burst open, spelling out Ivor Gilbert's initials.

Below the frame, Susannah Fox threw herself into his arms and held on tight.

The sound of the fireworks was still echoing in my ears, but my vision kept blurring.

I thought back to last New Year's, when I'd tugged at her, asking her to buy me a single sparkler.

Her face had gone dark in an instant.

"Five dollars for a sparkler that burns for a few seconds, and you want to waste money like that?"

I'd thought she was just being careful with the household.

But the one who booked an entire fireworks show for someone else was also her.

More and more comments rolled in. "So jealous I'm numb, I'm full on couple goals."

Right after, he posted another photo.

"On my birthday, she insisted on taking me to Disney, and went and bought every single plushie on her own."

"I just want to ask, is there any hope for her?"

I wiped the tears hitting the screen and finally saw the Disney plushies filling it.

In the corner was a plushie keychain with a "free gift" tag still on it, and it was one I knew all too well.

Last month she'd used a very important project as her excuse to go away on a business trip.

That keychain was the one decent gift she brought back for me.

I'd thought she was finally coming around. I'd even hung it on my phone and carried it everywhere.

Fighting to keep my emotions down, I asked underneath.

"You two are so happy. How long have you been together?"

The reply came fast. "We've been together two years now."

"And she's already proposed to me, haha."

I thought I'd braced myself enough, but seeing this still hurt so much I couldn't breathe.

So in the three years Susannah Fox and I had been married, for two of them she'd been carrying someone else in her heart.

I stared at that last line, my eyes stinging.

She'd already promised him a future. And me...

My phone buzzed. Ivor Gilbert had sent me a private message.

"Bro, happy anniversary."

"Also wanted to ask your advice. How do I get my wife to be a little more devoted to home too?"

Something dropped hard inside me. So it was true, the ones who are loved really do feel invincible.

I tugged the corner of my mouth and opened the message box.

"If you want to know, come find me at Sycamore Court."

It was deep into the night when Susannah came home.

She stopped short when she saw me still sitting in the living room.

Then she changed out of her shoes in a hurry and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Don't wait up for me next time, honey."

As she turned away, I caught her hand.

"Susannah, yesterday was our anniversary."

Her steps paused. She answered softly, "Mm. I know."

A vast helplessness rose in my chest. With her, I always lost.

But still I stubbornly wanted an answer.

"Why won't you ever spend Valentine's Day with me?"

Only then did Susannah turn back, tugging her collar loose, as if nothing had happened.

"Leo, you know how busy work keeps me. Can't you show me a little more understanding?"

"Besides, I gave you a gift."

I looked at the screenshot on my phone, an electric bill for $207.50. That was the gift she meant.

I'd lost count of how many times I'd been given a gift like this.

A property fee statement for my birthday. A gas bill handed over on New Year's.

Somewhere along the way, all that was left between us were these cold statements.

I forced down the catch in my throat. "A household electric bill. That's what you call a gift?"

The power we used together, a household expense, was hers to pay anyway.

She'd only twisted her own share of the burden into something that turned my stomach.

She gave me a long look, unreadable.

"So what do you want? A bag? A watch? What?"

"Leo, when did you get so materialistic?"

I lifted my head in disbelief. So all I'd wanted was the smallest scrap of care, and that made me materialistic.

Five years dating, three years married, and I'd given nearly everything I had.

The poorest year, I hauled bricks on a construction site by day and worked a convenience store shift at night, getting through each day on a single bowl of instant ramen.

All to save enough for a house, so I could marry Susannah.

When she found out, she'd stroked my head, doting. "You want to marry me that badly?"

Later she worked her job by day and sold drinks at a nightclub at night, until we finally had enough to buy the place we lived in now.

"That you had to worry over money, that was on me for not doing better."

The woman who'd once burned with feeling, who'd thrown everything she had into me, now stood there scolding me as materialistic over a gift I had never once received.

I opened the video Ivor had sent and turned the screen toward her.

"Susannah, were the fireworks pretty?"

The impatience on her face vanished all at once.

"You... you already know!"

I looked at her face. The guilt in her eyes was real.

Before she could say anything, her phone rang.

She glanced at me, then turned and went out to the balcony to take the call.

It was only a few seconds. When she hurried back inside, the guilt was gone from her face.

"Whatever's between us, why drag Ivor into it?"

"Do you really hate to see me happy that much?"

Realizing she'd pushed too hard, she sighed and picked up her coat.

"It's late, and he's still waiting downstairs. I have to go check on him."

Before she closed the door, she gave me a long look.

"I'll explain all of this to you."

I stood by the balcony. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide and bright.

So bright that a slight tilt of my head was all it took to see the man and woman tangled together downstairs.

The man threw off her hand, angry, but Susannah couldn't hold back any longer. She flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth.

A laugh broke out of me.

I laughed and laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks.

Susannah, I don't want to wait for your explanation anymore.

The next morning, the second I'd messaged my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement, my phone started buzzing without stopping.

More than a dozen messages, every one of them from Ivor Gilbert.

"So you're Susannah's husband. I'm sorry we had to meet like this."

"I think you've already seen it. The only person Susannah loves is me. To you, she's just fulfilling an obligation. The truth is, she got tired of you a long time ago."

"Susannah promised she'd give me a wedding. If you'd cooperate, I'd like you to walk away on your own."

Right after that he sent a photo of a ring, the receipt showing a seven-figure price.

"Bought it this morning. Just to make her happy."

I stared at the photo for a long time, and without thinking my fingers brushed my bare right hand.

When she proposed all those years ago, she'd folded a ring out of scrap paper and slipped it onto my finger.

"Rings are for other people to look at. It's the life you live that's yours. No sense chasing luxury until you can't even afford to eat."

Later, when things got easier, I brought it up with her. All she said was that we'd gotten by fine without a ring before.

Now the thing I'd wanted and never gotten, he'd slid onto his finger without a second thought.

I switched off my phone and made myself a black coffee.

Susannah must have come back at some point. She wrapped her arms around me from behind.

"You always hated anything bitter. Since when do you drink coffee?"

She startled me and I shoved her off hard.

She stumbled back a couple of steps but didn't get angry. She let out a soft laugh. "Still not over it?"

Like all we'd done was have a fight.

I looked at the red marks half hidden on her neck, and my voice came out rough.

"Let's get divorced."

Susannah frowned, already starting to lose patience.

"Leo, playing the divorce card stopped being fun a long time ago."

She said it and sank onto the sofa behind her, crossing her legs.

"I admit I have feelings for Ivor. But it's not all my fault."

"After we got married, you changed. Every single day it was bills, the mortgage, money, money, money. I was exhausted."

"Ivor's warm, he's easygoing, he understands what I've been through. When I'm with him I don't have a single worry."

Only when I heard that did it finally sink in.

I'd quit the job I loved for her, given everything I had to keeping this home, and it had become her excuse for cheating.

Susannah pinched the bridge of her nose. "I promised him a wedding."

She paused, then lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes cold.

"I remember you've always had that wedding plan. Give it to Ivor. Call it compensation."

That wedding plan was the best work of my career. I'd sweated over it for three months, gone through more than a dozen versions, wanting nothing but to deliver something perfect.

I'd been saving it for my own wedding with Susannah.

Back when we married we were too broke, and she'd talked me into holding a proper ceremony once we had money.

Now the money was here, and she wanted to use my work at her wedding to another man.

The disgust rose in me and wouldn't stop.

"Why should I?"

She leaned back against the sofa, indifferent.

"The plan's already done. It's just sitting there collecting dust. Better to let Ivor use it and save on a design fee."

"You don't know the cost of running a home until you run one. You've been out of work this long. It's about time you contributed something."

I watched her act like all of it was perfectly reasonable, and something in me kept sinking.

So her thrift, her care for the household, had only ever applied to me.

In her eyes, everything I'd given wasn't giving at all. It was just an expense she could cross off whenever she liked.

"Fine."

If that was how it was, then we were even.

She was decorating her wedding to Ivor Gilbert, delighted, my plan in her hands.

It looked exactly like the wedding I'd once imagined for us. Down to the last detail.

Her best friend teased her.

"Not bad, girl. I didn't know you had such a romantic side."

"You never put this kind of effort into your own husband. Aren't you afraid he'll get mad and walk out?"

Susannah Fox folded her arms and gave a soft laugh.

"I can't give Ivor a title, so of course I'll give him the best wedding."

"As for Leo, he's been with me eight years. We got through the poorest days together. Now that things are good and he's at this age, he won't make a fuss over any of this."

So she'd decided I would never leave, which was why she trampled all over what I felt without a second thought.

It was a while before she noticed me standing behind her.

She smiled and came striding toward me, not the slightest bit rattled at being overheard.

"Tomorrow's the wedding. You'll be the host."

I threw off her hand as she reached for mine, my voice shaking. "You two are getting married. Why am I the one hosting?"

Susannah spread her hands, her tone as casual as anything. "Because you're free. A host from an agency runs you three, five grand at least. You studied this once, didn't you? It's no trouble for you."

She lowered her head, scrolled through her phone, and added more.

"Oh, and don't bother with a suit. There's one left over in the closet from the last wedding. Just make do with that."

Her words landed like a slap across my face.

I looked at her and couldn't get out a single word.

So in her eyes, my profession, my dignity, all of it could be converted into money.

But with Ivor Gilbert, a seven-figure ring, skies full of fireworks, she swiped the card without so much as a blink.

Susannah, you can account for every dollar between us. Can you account for eight years of us?

Three years later, I stood at a wedding again. Except this time I was hosting my own wife's wedding to another man.

Truly laughable.

Ivor Gilbert, watch on his wrist, dressed in a bespoke suit, walked Susannah slowly to the front of the stage.

In front of everyone, they were a perfect, happy couple, and I was just the free host at their side.

I gripped the microphone tight and walked the guests through every step of the ceremony through clenched teeth.

Until the last one. The groom kisses the bride.

Ivor Gilbert leaned in beside me and gave me a low laugh.

"No wonder Susannah only ever hands you the bill when she buys a gift. You really suit each other."

"This suit of mine is a global limited edition. One of a kind. She said I deserve the best."

With that, he smiled and walked to Susannah, tipping his head down to look at her.

Susannah didn't spare me a single glance. She let Ivor Gilbert cup the back of her head and kiss her deep.

The string that had been pulled taut inside me snapped completely in that moment.

I slid the divorce agreement into a folder, handed it to her best friend, and fled.

But this time I didn't shed a single tear.

The wedding over, Susannah looped her arm through Ivor Gilbert's and went table to table with the toasts, soaking up everyone's blessings.

That was when she seemed to remember me. Her eyes kept sweeping the hall, but never once found me.

Even after the crowd thinned out, she still hadn't heard from me.

She was just about to call me when her best friend handed her the folder.

"Your husband left this. Said it's a wedding gift for you."

Susannah took the folder, a little uneasy, and opened it.

Divorce Agreement. The words leapt up at her, stark across the page.